“What would he know?” broke in an elderly clerk; “he must have come away from England a mere child, seeing how he speaks German now.”
“Or if he did know, is it likely he'd tell?” observed another.
“At all events, let us ask him what it costs. I say, Knabe, come here and let us see your fine clothes; we are all proud of having so grand a colleague.”
“You might show your pride, then, more suitably than by insulting him,” said I, with perfect calm.
Had I discharged a loaded pistol in the midst of them, the dismay and astonishment could not have been greater.
That any one “aus dem Hof”—“out of the yard”—should presume to think he had feelings that could be outraged, seemed a degree of arrogance beyond belief, and my word “insult” was repeated from mouth to mouth with amazement.
“Come here, Knabe,” said the cashier, in a voice of blended gentleness and command,— “come here, and let us talk to you.”
I arose and made my way from the bow to the stern of the boat. Short as the distance was, it gave me time to bethink me that I must repress all anger or irritation if I desired to keep my secret; so that when I reached my place, my mind was made up.
“Silk-velvet as I live!” said one who passed his hand along my sleeve as I went.
“No one wishes to offend you, youngster,” said the cashier to me, as he placed me beside him; “nor when we talk freely to each other, as is our wont, are any of us offended.”